Bartemius' Choice
by Ebenbild
Summary: There's a reason why Barty Crouch Jr. decided to follow the Dark Lord. There's a reason why he send Harry as a sacrifice for the ritual in Harry's forth year. There's a reason why hell is empty and the devils walk earth - and those reasons aren't what people think they are, because Barty is a Slytherin. Rebirthed Barty! Canon compliant (more or less)


**Unpopular Characters **

_CHASER 2: Write about Barty Crouch Jr. _

_(quote) Hell is empty and all the devils are here - William Shakespeare, The Tempest_

_(dialogue) "I wish I had known that before."_

_(song) Fire and Ice - Within Temptation_

_**Beta love: **__Story Please, Claude Amelia Song_

_**Disclaimer: **__I'm too young to be Rowling so there is sadly no way Harry Potter is mine…_

_**Placing:**_ _HP4, end._

_**Word Count:**_ _4341_

_Thanks to Story Please who helped me with the basic idea to this story._

**_Quotes_** _from **HP****4**_

xXxXxXxXxXxBartemiusxXxXxXxChoicexXxXxXxXxChoicexXxXxXxXxBartemiusxXxXxXxXxXxXx

sSsSsSsSs

_**BARTEMIUS' CHOICE**_

sSs

_Hell is empty and all the devils are here._

sSs

His eyes were closed. Nevertheless, he could see her in front of him, her red hair like a flame, her green eyes like torches.

"Give him a chance," she pleaded with him and he knew she wasn't real. "Please, I beg you, _please_, give him a chance!"

"I am no angel," he countered. "I'm just me."

She laughed at that, sounding broken in a way he had never heard a person sound before.

"You are the closest thing I know of an angel," she countered. "So _please_, I beg you, give him a chance!"

And no matter how much he wanted to remind himself that she wasn't real, in the end he sighed and gave in anyway.

"Alright," he replied. "One chance — a fighting chance, but that is all I will give him."

sSs

Belief is a powerful but terrible thing.

Belief can move mountains, raise the sea, and slay monsters.

Belief can enlighten people, belief can strengthen people, and belief can be their pillar in a world where they're left alone.

Belief is great. Belief is beautiful — and terrible, so terrible all at once.

_**"Father, **__I didn't! I didn't, I swear it, Father, don't send me back to the Dementors... No! Mother, no! I didn't do it, I didn't do it, I didn't do it, I didn't know! Don't send me there, don't let him! I'm your son! I'm your __**son!"**_

But the father turned his head away, not listening, believing the worst of his son, the worst of his own flesh and blood.

The mother next to him cried for her baby, pleaded with the father, and yet, she believed the son to be guilty. She believed the son had done what he had been accused of, she just didn't want her son to suffer for his deeds.

Yes, belief is a wonderful thing — so wonderful and so terrible all at once…

But then, he had expected no less after all he had lived through before.

xXx

When he was little, he had always been called his mother's little angel.

"You're my little angel, Bartemius," his mother said. "My dearly beloved angel!"

"Mummy," he had answered a bit sadly. "Will you believe me — no matter what everybody else says?"

"Of course I will," his mother tried to assure him, but even as young as Bartemius had been, he had known that his mother was lying.

She would never believe him when it mattered.

xXx

"_I didn't do it, Mother! I didn't do it! Please believe me, I didn't do it, Mother!"_

She hadn't believed him — just like nobody else ever had.

"_I wasn't the one who did it," he told them, begging. "It wasn't me! I swear, it wasn't me!"_

_And yet, he had been an outcast; feared and hated for something he hadn't done, for something he hadn't controlled. _

_And he had known it. He had always known that he wouldn't be believed; yet, he had hoped anyway because such was his nature — even now, years and years later._

xXx

"You will be strong. Some day, you will be perfect," his father told him.

"I am strong already, Father," he replied. "You'd have to be strong if you saw what I see every night."

"Of course, son," his father replied, but clearly hadn't listened.

He'd just sighed at that.

He had always known that his father might believe in his own worth, but no matter what, his father would never believe in his son's.

xXx

"_It wasn't my fault, Father! I wasn't involved, I swear I wasn't!"_

But his father hadn't believed him, just like nobody else ever had.

"_I _**saw** _it happen, I didn't do it!" He cried. "Why do you believe I did when you all have known me for years?! Why are you willing to see me as guilty when you know I am anything but?!"_

_But even before asking he had known that it didn't matter what he said: The future was already written and he was the villain in its play._

xXx

"We will be victorious!" The Dark Lord told him, before continuing to spin words about his path to power.

He didn't believe them. He never had.

"_**Bone**_ _of the father, unknowingly given, you will renew your son! Flesh of the servant, willingly sacrificed, you will revive your master. Blood of the enemy, forcibly taken, you will resurrect your __**foe."**_

An enemy, brought by a faithful servant's hands. An enemy, brought by the man who was sacrificed for a better world — not by his father, not by his mother, but by a person worse than them. He had been sacrificed by himself.

xXx

"_Please, my son — protect him! I know I shouldn't beg you, but you're the only one who will listen! Protect him, for all it's worth, I'll give you anything if you just give him a fighting chance!"_

"_One chance, just one — and just because he has my eyes," he replied to the illusion. "Just this once a fighting chance for him."_

_And a life as a sacrifice to assure it._

xXx

In the end, he found himself sitting on the green grass, staring up into the skies.

"And I still wonder why heaven has died," he said to himself while watching the clouds turning red like blood. "The skies are all falling and I'm breathing — but why?"

"You breathed to protect him," the illusion of the woman reminded him. "You breathed for him to have a chance — just like you promised."

But what a chance would it be — full of fear and hatred and cruelty.

He wondered if his sacrifice had been worth it; he wondered if there was light after all that darkness. And then he closed his eyes and tried to dismiss those concerns.

Because in the end, it didn't matter what he thought.

Hell was empty and all the devils were free...

sSs

_Every word you're saying is a lie._

sSs

"Will you kill me?" The boy in front of him asked. The child's eyes were green and full of hidden fear.

"Why do you think I should, Potter?" he replied.

"You're a Death Eater," the boy reasoned. "They always want to kill me."

His lips twitched at that.

"I wish I had known that before," he said, looking at the boy with a strange smile. "I might have changed my approach if I had."

It wasn't the truth — but then, he had never minded lying.

If he had, he would have suffered all his life, after all...

sSs

Pride is a powerful but terrible thing.

There are stories all over history that portray what will happen if somebody is too prideful.

_Narcissus._

_Proud of his appearance and lost to all because of it._

_Oedipus._

_Antigone…_

They all were lost to hubris.

_The Tower of Babylon._

_Pride turned to hubris and destroyed the unity of the people._

_Nebuchadnezzar…_

And pride, wrongly chosen is nothing but hubris.

_Macbeth._

_He lost his throne to hubris way before he had it._

_Mercutio and Romeo._

Pride, wrongly chosen has always been nothing but destructive.

_**"Mad**__, am I? We'll see! We'll see who's mad, now that the Dark Lord has returned, with me at his side! He is back, Harry Potter, you did not conquer him — and now — I conquer __**you!"**_

But sometimes, pride is the only thing a person has left, the only thing a person can still rely on, can still believe in — no matter what everybody else says to them.

"I did it," he told himself, his eyes locked with green ones that reminded him of the killing curse. "I did it — because this is what I had to do!"

Because sometimes, pride is the only thing left in a person after everything else has been taken and destroyed.

xXx

When he had been young, his father had looked at him with pride.

"One day, you will follow my footsteps and show everybody that you are my son and I did well with you," his father had told him. "You are my heir and I will be able to prove the world what kind of person I am!"

"Father," he replied. "Do you really want me to reflect your deeds?"

"Of course, son!" his Father replied proudly. "And you will the best because of it!"

'Do you really want me to reflect your deeds, Father?' he wanted to ask at that. 'Because if I do — you won't be happy with what I show to the world.'

But he knew that no matter what he thought, his father wouldn't listen. The man was enraptured by his status, his reputation — and his pride which had turned to hubris long before little Bartemius had been born…

xXx

"_Father, do you see it? Do you see your deeds in me now? Because this is the reflection you wanted to see in me… but now, you don't want to look me in the eyes anymore and see in them your reflection."_

But then, nobody had ever wanted to see the truth he showed them.

"_If you continue like this, there will be death in our future!" He cried, warning them for all he knew it wouldn't help. "They won't accept the facts! They'll just see we didn't do enough to protect their loved ones — no matter that we're not strong enough to do so now; no matter that we did all we could and it still wasn't enough!"_

"_You're delusional, Slytherin!" the others countered. "Absolutely delusional! Stop it! We don't want to hear another word!"_

_Because, no matter what he _saw _in the future, they had always been too prideful to listen… just like anybody else later on._

xXx

"You're a Slytherin, and Slytherins are the best in the school," Lucius Malfoy told him. "Slytherin are sly and cunning and the best of the best. Be proud of your house!"

"I already am," he replied. "Because Slytherin is a part of Hogwarts — and Hogwarts wouldn't exist without one of its four pillars."

"That's what I meant," Lucius replied amused, but he knew that the other boy was lying.

Lucius had meant something different. Lucius had wanted something different from Bartemius.

'I know what you want from me,' Bartemius thought, not looking at Lucius. 'I know why you want me. You know of the influence of my father, you want to use it.'

But he said nothing. There was no reason to speak. He knew that Lucius Malfoy was prideful — and he didn't want that pride to turn against him in the end…

xXx

"_I'm a Slytherin through and through. I lie, I deceive — and worst of all, I am cunning by a default… not that you'll ever know, will you, Lucius Malfoy?"_

But then, not a lot of people had ever understood what it meant to be a Slytherin for him.

"_I'll go. I'll try to stop them and maybe, if I'm lucky, I will succeed," he said, looking into the night, eyes tired and bitter._

"_They won't let you go," the other man behind him countered. "You're one of us. You're one of the pillars holding this place. They won't accept that you plan to go and throw away your life to a threat that doesn't exist."_

"_You know it exists, Gryffindor," he countered._

"_But I've seen war — and I know what to look for," the other man replied. "They haven't and they don't."_

"_Yet, I have to go anyway. We need a chance. A fighting chance."_

_For a moment, there was silence. Then a hand reached for his hip and a face was pressed into his neck. He could feel hot breath traveling over his shirt-clad shoulders and exposed neck. He shuddered at the warmth in the cold of the night._

"_Then we'll fight," the man behind him said. "We'll fight and you go — storm out hurt and furious."_

"_It will destroy everything. My reputation— "_

"_It's either the children and the world or you… which do you want it to be?" The other man countered bitterly._

_He sighed._

"_The children," he replied as if it had ever been in question. "And the world, maybe."_

_Because he was a Slytherin and no matter how prideful the man behind him was, his friend was never prideful enough to dismiss what it meant to be a Slytherin. And both of them were prepared to use it to their advantage._

xXx

"This… with this plan, it will be the start of a new era," the Dark Lord said to him. "This will be the beginning of Potter's end. This will be our return to our rightful place in this world!"

The Dark Lord was prideful.

The Dark Lord had always been prideful.

And while everybody believed him, he didn't. He never had.

"_**Bone**_ _of the father, unknowingly given, you will renew your son! Flesh of the servant, willingly sacrificed, you will revive your master. Blood of the enemy, forcibly taken, you will resurrect your __**foe."**_

He could have been the one to sacrifice his flesh for the Dark Lord. He could have been the servant. But the truth is, he never was. His blood would have poisoned the Dark Lord if he had used it. His flesh would have burned him — and as much as he wanted it to happen, this wasn't the way to end what should have ended long ago...

xXx

"_Are you watching the world again?"_

_He looked up from the place he was standing._

"_I'm dead," he whispered, his eyes locking with the other man's who had come up behind him. "Why do I still _see _if I'm dead?!"_

"_Because somebody has to watch," was the solemn reply. "Because the world needs a guardian and you have shown that you're willing to be one long ago."_

"_Gryffindor," he scoffed at that, "I'm—"_

"_The right one," the other man countered. "Whatever you _saw_, you are the right one."_

"_I can see her still," he corrected the other man. "Fiery red hair — just like yours — green eyes like torches and pleading for her child."_

"_Pleading for what?" The other man asked while his hands curled around his best friends hips._

"_Pleading for a chance," he replied, not looking at his friend. "A fighting chance."_

_The other man buried his head in the Slytherin's neck. His breath was ghosting over the Slytherin's shoulders. His grip tightened as if to hold him and keep him._

"_Then do just that," he replied to the Slytherin, his words in clear contrast to his actions. "It's what you see. It's what you've been asked to do — and even if it's not real now, it will be real some day."_

"_It will mean a sacrifice — an ultimate sacrifice," he replied and the other man shuddered and tightened his grip._

"_Do it anyway. I will stay here and wait for you — no matter what."_

_And he guessed that in the end, this was something he could find pride in. This was something he could believe in._

_He smiled and felt safe for maybe the last time in a long, long while._

xXx

In the end, he found himself sitting in the green grass, staring at a blood-red sky.

"You did it and you're back," a voice said and his green eyes found the other man's when he came up to him. He didn't say anything even after the other man sat down behind him and straddled him with his legs before curling around him like a protective cocoon.

He looked back up into the sky while leaning backwards into the embrace.

"Hell is empty," he finally said. "The devils are here."

"It's what had to be done," the other man replied calmly. "You promised a fighting chance — and if you hadn't opened hell, somebody else would have… and then the boy wouldn't have the chance he has now."

"But to what price?" He countered.

"Your life's," his friend answered. "And nearly your soul's as well. You could have lost your soul for it."

"I didn't," he replied, not looking at his friend. "I couldn't have. I had already taken the poison. I was dead before the dementor could touch me."

His friend shuddered.

"You were a sacrifice," he whispered. "A sacrifice for the world. A sacrifice for the child you promised a chance. It was you who paid it, and it was you who will never be rewarded for it, because nobody will ever know that you did it on purpose."

He just shrugged and watched the clouds.

"And there I was still wondering why heaven has died," he said to his friend while watching the rain start falling. "Still wondering why the devils have to walk earth and the skies are falling."

He shook his head tiredly.

"I wish I had known that before."

His friend's hold tightened.

"You did," he replied bitterly. "Or you wouldn't have gone and lived the life you did for a fighting chance for a boy you never met and will never know."

And his friend was right.

Hell was empty and all the devils were there… but so was the fighting chance for the child.

sSs

_Every sign will say your heart is dead._

sSs

"You wish you had known that Death Eaters want to kill me?" The green eyed boy — _with eyes so much like his true self's —_ asked him in disbelief.

"You think I'm lying," he countered and the boy just narrowed his eyes.

"You kidnapped me here. You're not the real Moody," he pointed out. "You were the one who brought me to Voldemort. You confessed it just moments ago!"

"I did and I was, Potter," he agreed, unbothered and took a sip out of another vial - not the hip flask he had used before. He shuddered at the bitter taste.

_Not long now._

"But I have my reasons," he added, knowing full well that the boy was listening, but not understanding. "I always had — and one of the reasons was a boy just like you. A boy who is needed by the future… and a future I'd love to see to come to pass but never will."

The boy stared at him.

"You're mad," he whispered. "You must be — there is no other way to make sense of your words."

And he had to agree with the boy there. Maybe, over the time of his life, he had gone mad — and it hadn't been Azkaban that did it...

xXx

Love is a powerful but terrible thing.

Love is all-encompassing, all-surrounding, all-saturating.

Love can build bridges, can connect heaven to earth and can bring peace where once was war.

Love is beautiful — but in the end, it's terrible as well.

It can clip people's wings, it can bring war, it can destroy bridges and lead to hate.

_**"The**_ _Dark Lord and I have much in common. Both of us, for instance, had very disappointing fathers... very disappointing indeed. Both of us suffered the indignity, Harry, of being named after those fathers. And both of us had the pleasure... the very great pleasure... of killing our fathers! ... I will be honoured beyond all other Death Eaters. I will be his dearest, his closest supporter... Closer than a __**son..."**_

In the end, love is the worst emotion that anybody can feel — because it's love which will destroy without prejudice if it turns to hate.

He had loved his parents, had always loved them — even when their love had turned to hatred on their part.

"I love you, Father," he told his father shortly before he killed him. "I will always love you, even after understanding that you'd never truly loved me."

"I loved you," his father countered. "I loved you, Barty — but I can't accept what happened to you. I can't accept the monster you've become."

He just smiled at that, sadly.

"I was never a monster, Father," he said. "It was your love turned to hate which saw the monster in me. In the end, the only one who was a monster was always you."

'Because I'm your reflection,' but those words remained unspoken. He knew they would never be accepted.

xXx

"_Please, Father! Please, look at me! Believe me! Love me! Please, Father, I'm your reflection! I'm what you wanted me to be! Why can't you accept me after you made me?!"_

But then, he had never been accepted the way he should have been.

"_Closing us off from the non-magicals?! Are you mad, Slytherin?!"_

_He stared at them, his green eyes calm and his posture stiff._

"_It's the only way," he countered. "With the raids on the island… there will be repercussions if we don't act now. There will be dead, if we don't act now!"_

"_No! They're children! Only children! You can't force them to choose either their families or their magic! They love both!"_

"_And sometimes you will have to let go of something that you love before it turns into hatred along the way!" He countered heatedly. "I know it! I _**saw **_it! I experienced it! Don't… please don't make me be the one who has to choose for them!"_

"_No!" It was that word that shattered all his hopes. The women turned away, and only the man looked at him, uncomfortable but understanding._

_He knew they loved him._

_He knew he loved them._

_And he suddenly knew he would have to leave them — before his love turned into hate as well._

_It hurt… it hurt like nothing else in this world, but in the end, he knew it was the right thing to do._

xXx

"I'm here to exchange my life with yours," his mother said with a cough. "You will live, I will die. This is your second chance."

He just looked at her, not truly looking at all.

'Not my second chance,' he wanted to deny. 'This will be the chance that I never had and that I never will have.'

But he knew his mother didn't want to hear it, just like his father didn't want to hear it.

A prison in exchange for a prison for something he didn't do.

xXx

"_I didn't do it, Mum, I didn't do it! Please believe me I didn't!"_

Love had always been a terrible thing for him. It was all-encompassing, all-fulfilling and so deeply integrated in him that he would never be able to burn it out of himself no matter what he did.

"_I hate you!" He screamed, but no matter what he said, he didn't mean it. "I'm right and you will see it!"_

_All around him, illusory corpses lay, corpses that wouldn't exist if they just would have __**listened**__. He wanted to sob, instead, he swung his sword at the man in front of him._

"_I hate you," he whispered. "I hate you so much!"_

"_I feel the same," the other man replied and his eyes shone with love beneath his fiery red bangs. "Believe me, Slytherin, it's mutual."_

_And it hurt to know. It hurt, it _hurt… _it _**hurt!**

_He disarmed the other — a feat he would have never succeeded in before today — and then turned away and strode out of the castle._

"_This is it," he said aloud. "Now you will feel my revenge!"_

_The village was burning in front of his silvery, misty eyes. Everywhere were illusions of corpses — and very real non-magicals with weapons in their hands and out for blood._

_His magic gathered._

"_I hate you," he whispered with tears in his eyes. "I hate you so much!"_

_The magic he sent out destroyed the threat — but also himself. In the end, his friend couldn't even find ashes of his body anymore. There was nothing to bury — the only thing left were wards and magic and power surrounding an ancient castle._

'_I wish I wouldn't have lied to you in those last seconds I lived. I wish you would have been able to hear what I meant to say… what I twisted beyond recognition instead.'_

_But then, sometimes devils needed to walk the earth to keep heaven from falling..._

xXx

It was for naught, in the end.

_**"If **__there's something I hate more than any other, it's a Death Eater who walked free. They turned their backs on my master when he needed them most. I expected him to punish them. I expected him to torture them. Tell me he hurt them, Harry. Tell me he told them that I, only I remained __**faithful…"**_

He didn't believe in love without hatred. He didn't believe in justice.

"Life isn't just," he told the boy shortly before he lost his life. "Life is cruel. Life is full of devils while hell is empty. Do you really believe what they tell you? Do you really believe that they tell you the truth?!"

The boy stared at him. His green eyes were huge and full of fear.

"You're definitely mad," he whispered. "You're absolutely mad!"

He smirked at that.

"I might be," he agreed. "I was a prisoner far too long — no matter my innocence, no matter my guilt. I was a prisoner in a prison worse than anything else in the world."

The boy shuddered.

"You're a monster! You deserve the worst!"

He smiled bitterly.

"I was made a monster," he countered. "I was made a monster by belief and fear."

"You joined Voldemort!"

"Never," he calmly replied. "I just did what I had to. I did what I had to to survive… and to ensure you survived."

The boy stopped at that.

"That I survived?" He repeated and Bartemius smiled.

"You will see," he countered. "You will see in three years' time!"

And before the boy could ask, the door was blasted open.

Heaven was dead and the sky was falling.

Because hell was empty and the devils were walking on earth…

xXx

"Was it worth your life as a sacrifice, Salazar?" Gryffindor asked and curled around him, his head buried in his neck like always. "This chance, this fighting chance — was it worth it?"

He looked up in the blood red sky, his green eyes turning silver and misty.

He _**saw**_.

He _saw _a boy going through hardship.

He _saw _a boy fighting and loving and sacrificing himself.

He _saw _a child dying — and he _saw_ a child returning to life.

A fighting chance.

"_**Bone**_ _of the father, unknowingly given, you will renew your son! Flesh of the servant, willingly sacrificed, you will revive your master. Blood of the enemy, forcibly taken, you will resurrect your __**foe."**_

A bond, a tether to life which only existed because of Bartemius Crouch Jr. … because of Salazar Slytherin.

And he _saw _a boy stand up to fight again and winning.

He _saw_ a happy life, a long life and freedom and peace.

"I wish I had known that before," he whispered.

But it didn't matter.

He had gone and released the devils from hell to save the heavens from falling — he had gone and given a child a fighting chance. He might not have known if he would succeed until now, but he had done it anyway.

A chance to survive.

A chance to live, to believe, to love.

"I'm proud of you, Salazar," Gryffindor said and curled tighter around him, holding him close and steadying him when his legs gave in with relief. "All he needed was a chance — and you were the one who gave it."

Just like he had done for Hogwarts, all those years ago…

_sSs_

_Heaven has died._

_In silence I hold on to you and I._

xXxXxXxXxXxBartemiusxXxXxXxChoicexXxXxXxXxChoicexXxXxXxXxBartemiusxXxXxXxXxXxXx

_Maybe should have called it "Salazar's Choice"... *frowns*_

**_I hope you liked this story._**

**_Ebenbild_**


End file.
